


The Best Part

by chileancarmenere



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-29
Updated: 2012-08-29
Packaged: 2017-11-13 02:54:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/498656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chileancarmenere/pseuds/chileancarmenere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isabela buys a new toy for Fenris.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Best Part

He should have known, as soon as she dropped back and waved to him, she wanted to talk about her new idea. Hawke and Sebastian were strolling ahead of them, along the beach, but Isabela had one thing on her mind and the presence of their companions would not deter her.

“I bought it,” she said triumphantly. “There’s a lovely little store down in Lowtown that sells all sorts of depraved toys.”

Fenris swallowed. “Are you…sure about this?”

“Only if you are, sweet thing,” she said easily. “There’s only one thing hotter than pinning you down and sliding a wooden toy in your ass, and that’s respecting what you want to do.”

Fenris shook his head. He must be mad.

“What are you talking about back there?” Sebastian glanced over his shoulder at them. Isabela smiled sweetly, and before Fenris could stop her, called out: “Pegging.”

Sebastian blushed a deeper shade of scarlet than Fenris had ever seen. “Oh…” He turned around, hunching his shoulders. Hawke merely laughed.

Isabela gave a satisfied smirk. “He’ll be on his knees tonight.”

At the ambiguous words, warmth suffused Fenris. The tips of his ears flushed pink. “All right. Let’s try it.”

****

Isabela’s room at the Hanged Man was cramped and smoky. Most of the room was taken up with a large, cushy bed, and books and hats were scattered around the floor.

“Don’t mind the mess,” Isabela said, kicking off her boots and flopping down on the bed. She leaned over and searched under a mess of bandanas. “That Lowtown hat shop had a sale on today. I thought I might as well make a day of it.”

Her room even smelled like her, Fenris thought, sniffing the air. Her skin smelled of salt and smoke and warm citrus. When he buried his nose in her hair and closed his eyes, he could almost imagine himself on the shores of Rivain.

“Here we are.” She pulled out a small, cleverly carved box. With a flourish, she opened it and presented it to Fenris, as though it was treasure being presented to a king. He reached in and took the carved toy. “Not very large,” he remarked, and then he could have kicked himself.

Isabela’s laughter rang through the room. “If you prefer, I could go back and buy the bigger version.”

“Maybe we’ll save that for later,” he said. He felt reckless and daring. Isabela smiled at him and took the toy back. “You doing good?”

“I’m good.”

The first time they had met, it was rapid and alcohol-fueled. Not that the alcohol had _caused_ it; Fenris had been watching Isabela’s swaying hips for months, and ever since Hawke had introduced them, Isabela had been making appreciative remarks about his tattoos. The alcohol had just sort of helped it along. Her mouth had tasted of wine, and he had stripped her clothes off her with clumsy, eager fingers. Isabela had pinned him to the bed and straddled him, riding him so hard that he could do nothing but hold on, sparks flying behind his eyelids. It had been necessary, and wonderful, and terrifying.

Now, weeks after their first tryst, they were slower. He knew that she liked him to bite at her nipples gently when he removed her tunic, and she knew that his ears were sensitive to the point where pleasure and pain were no longer discernible. When they were naked, he liked to run his fingers through her luxuriant hair, the sensation so different from anything else he knew. It was _soft_ , and comforting.

The thing he liked most was her repeated check-ins. She might just throw a questioning glance his way, and not proceed till he nodded. She might ask him, as she nibbled his ear-tip, _are you all right_ and she would feel more than hear his deep, hoarse _yes_ under her.

Isabela leaned over him to pluck a jar of ointment off the table. “Let’s get this party started, then.” Her voice was questioning, and she looked down at him. He nodded. “Let’s.”

She smiled, and took a generous dollop of ointment on both hands. “Roll over.” He complied, turning face down into the pillows. The scent of the ointment reached him; minty. Mint – and ice – lyrium – magic – _pain_ – 

He twisted around frantically, hearing again Danarius’s mocking laugh, expecting to see the hated magister’s face rearing above him with a smirk. _Down, pet. Down. You only breathe at my will._

Isabela rolled off him immediately. She stroked his hair, ran her fingertip along the cartilage of his ear. “Fenris…Fenris. Fenris, it’s okay. It’s just me.”

His racing heart slowed. She took his face gently, so gently in her hands and rested her forehead against his. “Fenris. Look at me. It’s all okay.” He met her tawny eyes, soft and large. “You hear me? It’s okay.”

He nodded, just a quick jerk of the head. “I’m all right now.”

She raised her head very slowly, and kissed him on the nose. “Let me know if it gets bad.”

“It’s getting better,” he said, and he spoke nothing but the truth. Every time they met in his mansion or her room, Danarius’s laughter was fainter, his cold eyes blurrier in Fenris’s memory.

“Want to continue?” She was ready to do nothing but hold him all night, Fenris knew that. But he wanted to continue. He wanted to prove to himself that Danarius didn’t have a hold over him any longer.

“Yes.”

She kissed his nose again, and reapplied the ointment to her hands. Fenris made himself take a deep breath. Mint. That was all.

“This stuff is so soft, you can use it for anything,” Isabela said conversationally. “It’s not cheap, but I don’t skimp on my lubes.”

She leaned over him again and began working it into his back. Fenris tensed up once, and then relaxed under her skillful hands. She hummed low in her throat and leaned into it a little more, working out the sore muscles. “Feels good?”

“Mmm…” Fenris mumbled into the pillows. She smiled and began working her way down his back. “Oh sweet thing, I know I say this every time, but you have such a nice ass.”

He chuckled with her. She slid her hands down even further, over the curves of his ass, and he shivered at the sensation. Isabela paused for a moment, long enough for him to nod, and she slipped one finger inside. He stiffened at the sensation, but then she began _stroking_ and he lost all resistance.

“Feels like you like that.” Isabela gave him time to acclimatize, then slid another finger in, working it around a little. By the third finger, it was beginning to burn, but he would not have wanted her to stop for the world. She leaned in just a little farther, crooked her fingers just a little more, and brushed against something that set off a minor explosion in his core. He groaned hoarsely and arched his back. “Isabela…I…”

“And the toy hits that spot every time, sweet thing.”

“So then what are you waiting for?”

She giggled, and fished it out from between the pillows. “I love this thing. See this bit?” Fenris duly observed: there was a little lever-like object attached to…oh.

“Every time I move in you, this brushes right against my sweet spot. I think I’m going to camp out at that store.”

She strapped the wooden dildo on, lubricating it thickly with the ointment. “Lie back and relax,” she purred, crawling up his body to just breathe against his ear. He shivered at the feeling, and she licked delicately at the very tip. When he moaned aloud, Isabela smiled and moved over to his other ear, blowing upon it and licking it until Fenris had his fists buried in the blankets.

She leaned back a little bit and Fenris felt the blunt wooden head pushing against his ass. There was a flare of pain as it slid inside, but then it rubbed against that secret spot that Isabela had just found for him and he grunted, pushing back against her. Isabela hummed as the toy brushed against her clit. “Like it?” she asked.

He growled, unable to stay still. “Move.”

She laughed, and pushed back again, sliding her hands along his hips. He pressed back against her aimlessly, mindlessly, just wanting more. Isabela set a ragged rhythm, which he tried to keep to, but as the sensation mounted he was shaking too much to move strongly. She sped up, careful not to be too hard, but instead moving with long, sure strokes that pressed against him again and again.

The pressure built in his body, warmth and shivers and _feeling_ until he thought he could bear no more, if anyone had died from sex he was surely going to expire in the next few seconds, then Isabela bent over and nipped sharply at the tip of his ear. Fenris shouted incoherently, coming hard into the mattress, feeling as though he had shattered into a million pieces. He slumped forwards, panting, and Isabela rolled off him and hooked a leg comfortably over his hip.

“Well, sweet thing?”

Fenris was gasping too hard to reply for a moment. As the sweat cooled on his chest he glanced up at her and chuckled weakly. “I think we should use this more often.”

“And the best part,” Isabela said, tapping him on the nose, “is that was only the tamest of the toys there.”


End file.
